


if I were you I'd be head deep in blue

by ElZacharie



Series: Requests [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Love Confessions, No Dialogue, POV Alternating, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElZacharie/pseuds/ElZacharie
Summary: Beau has a confession.So does Jester.Yasha is sick of this shit.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Jester Lavorre/Yasha
Series: Requests [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/757167
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	if I were you I'd be head deep in blue

**Author's Note:**

> title from Untitled #6 by Girlfriends
> 
> requested by beanibop on tumblr

Beau liked Nicodranas.

She liked the beach, full of life even near the shore. She liked to swim out and sit on a rock that jutted out, meditating on the life that swam and crawled around her. She enjoyed getting down to her small clothes and swimming laps, splashing Caleb every time she passed him. She liked seeing her dark skin get a little darker under the sun, a sign she was still alive.

Beau liked the way Jester’s eyes brightened when she saw the beach, knowing she was close to home.

She liked the city, full of life no matter where you went. She liked the barkers crying out for her attention, asking her if she wanted to buy a gift for the lovely ladies with her. She liked the kids that scampered around, saying, “excuse me, miss,” every time one bumped into her. She liked the feeling of stone beneath her feet, each vibration running through her leg and reminding her she was still alive.

Beau liked the way Jester skipped and hopped, knowing she was nearly home.

She liked the Lavish Château, too, full of the rich and snobby as it may be. She liked the sound of Marion’s voice, filling every nook and crevice when she sang. She liked the colors, bright and blinding. She liked the food, the wonderful and foreign and light and delicious and a look into a world she’d like to live in.

Beau liked the way Jester showed off her home. Beau wanted to make it her home too, one day.

It’d been far easier for Beau to ask out Yasha than it was for her to even think about asking out Jester— in fact, it had been Yasha who’d asked her out first, after an intense sparring session that left them both smiling and sweaty and was both the most unromantic and the most romantic thing she’d ever done.

But there was no way a sparring session would work on Jester, Beau thought. Yasha and Beau agreed that Jester would want something more… more like her books. She’d want to be swept off her feet, to be wooed and romanced. Not covered in sweat with sore muscles.

Jester deserved more.

Beau could only hope she counted as “more”.

* * *

Jester hated Kamordah.

She hated the desert, so hot and unbearable even with her naturally cool body. She hated having to go outside, practically naked and yet still sweating. She hated how her feet seemed to burn through her shoes, making every step feel like she walked on hot coals. She hated how her skin darkened, like this place was trying to mark her for itself.

Jester hated the way Beau’s eyes darkened when they got closer to civilization, a sign that she was close to home.

She hated the town, almost devoid of life. She hated the rich nobles who stared and whispered as they passed, asking if that really was Beauregard Lionett in their midst once again. She hated the somber faces of the children that stuck close to their parents, getting scolded if they even showed a sliver of the disobedience that came with being a child. She hated the stone paths under her feet, the pent-up heat giving her terrible blisters and reminding her with each step not to love this place at all.

Jester hated the way Beau slowed and swayed, knowing she was close to home.

She hated the Lionett Estate especially, full of servants yet no life. She hated the sound of Thoreau Lionett’s voice, echoing across the halls and demanding their attention and obedience. She hated the colors, dull and dead. She hated the food, boring and tasteless and a look into the world she would’ve hated to live in.

Jester hated the way Beau showed off the house she grew up in. She wanted to give her a proper home, one day.

It’d been far easier to admit to the Traveler her crush on Beau (and, by extension and in of itself, Yasha)— in fact, it was the Traveler himself who’d figured out, from her journal entries and her poorly worded whispers to him in the middle of her prayers, begging for an answer to why she felt this way for another girl, and not a boy, like Fjord.

But there was no way a letter or whisper would get her feelings through to Beau. She’d want a confession that was full of thrill, that matched the way her heart raced in the middle of combat. She’d want to be filled with adrenaline, not swept off her feet (which she could certainly do, literally). 

Beau deserved more.

Jester could only hope she counted as “more.”

* * *

If Yasha had to watch these two pine over each other any longer, she might scream.

Every day, it seemed like, she would catch her girlfriend making heart eyes at Jester, and Jester making heart eyes back when she wasn’t looking. It was so sweet it made Yasha sick after the first dozen times.

The rest of the Mighty Nein felt the same way; more than once, she’d catch one them, especially Nott, shoving (figuratively and literally) into the arms of the other, hoping they’d catch on sooner rather than later. But no luck; they’d stumble and apologize and part ways.

It was driving Yasha insane. 

She loved both of them dearly, as friends and as more. She longed for Jester to be in their arms, and longed for Beau to be able to recite the poetry she kept trying to write for Jester for the both of them.

So, it was a simple ordeal to get the girls into the same room, lock them in, and refuse to let them out until they told each other how the really felt. And if they fell asleep in each other’s arms when Yasha finally went back to check on them, well… she could consider that a job well done.

**Author's Note:**

> jewishyasha.tumblr.com


End file.
